


Take Me, I'm Yours

by elwon



Series: Escape to Gotham [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Belly Dancing, Damian's a literary snob, Discussions of baths, M/M, Multi, Roadtrip through the desert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 22:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13351212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: They're all dealing with their forced roadtrip through the desert in different ways. Damian by being worryingly well behaved, Dick by learning to belly dance, and Jason? Jason just wishes his camel would stop spitting on him.





	Take Me, I'm Yours

**Author's Note:**

> [Take Me, I'm Yours by Squeeze](https://youtu.be/jW_94jR8Keo)

Jason’s grinning, sipping from his cup of tea and tearing off small bites of his bread as he watches Dick dance for the Caravan under the stars. The flickering torchlight glints off his jewellery, the beaded fringe of Dick’s veil and dancer’s pants as he spins and shimmies across the dance floor. Dick had taken a few lessons from the ladies of the Caravan, learning how to dance in the eastern style, and he’d picked it up faster than anyone had expected. He stamps his feet, shaking the bells around his ankles and his hips move side to side in staccato movements in time with the beat of the music. His arms flow fluidly around him, raising his veil from his shoulders to float gently in the soft cool night breeze, his armbands once again catching the light, his hips moving in a figure of eight before he drops to his knees and leans back to bring attention to his abdominals as they undulate, his arms reaching his above his head in counterpoint.

Dick lifts back onto his knees, spinning up to his feet to twirl the length of the dance floor over to where Jason’s sitting. Dick smiles widely, draping his veil over Jason’s shoulders and over his head, dropping the edge the over Jason’s face and darting away, leaving Jason to laugh and pull the veil off. The smooth skin of Dick’s back glistens in the torchlight, only to be replaced by the glittering of his necklaces and armbands when he turns fully to spin in place, once, twice, a third time, lifting his leg up high to extend up on his toes, before dropping down again to lift his ribcage up and down in another undulating movement. He kicks up again, leading into full body shimmy slowing into a hip roll that Jason’s very familiar with in different circumstances and usually from a much lesser distance.

Dick twists his hips, stomping a foot out in front of him to make the bells jingle loudly, making his way to the centre of the dance floor as he’s joined by other dancers, spinning each other around and calling out with joy as the drumbeats grow louder and the dancers’ ric and the oud plays faster. The troupe spreads out, their movements all synchronised as one as they step and leap in a routine that they’ve clearly been practicing for a while.

Jason downs the dregs of his tea, attempting to smile and nodding to his fellow day guards as he slips away from the feast. Checking that Damian’s still asleep once he makes it back to their tent, he pulls his shirt off, wiping the sand from his neck with a spare cloth before he drops down onto the thin travelling mattress that the Caravan supplied them with. Jason shifts, rolling onto his back and shoving an arm under his head. Everything belonging to the Caravan, including the bed pallets unfortunately, smells strongly of camel, which honestly is a smell Jason now hates. He sighs deeply, toeing off his shoes as he waits to Dick to return. Even after nearly two months of sharing a bed together since they married, Jason’s still not really used to sleeping next to another person. 

Dick crawls into the tent sometime later when Jason’s just started to doze off. He hops over to the bed, lacking his usual grace and struggling to undo the bells from his ankles. Jason stifles a chuckle as Dick almost overbalances before catching himself. Dick flops down on his back on the pallet, smelling of wine, figs and a lightly spiced smoke. He starts giggling to himself, smiling widely as he rolls onto his side to stare at Jason. Jason stares back at his husband, quirking an eyebrow, which sends Dick into a fresh peal of laughter. 

“You’re drunk.” Jason teases when Dick’s laughter quiets down enough to hear him whisper. 

“I’m not drunk, I’m tispy!” Dick whispers back, loudly and slightly offended. His eyes are open comically wide in indignation and Jason struggles not to chuckle in his face.

“ _Tipsy_... You most certainly are.” Jason bites his lip to stop his grin. Dick’s adorable like this, like a little kitten trying to pounce on a cat toy and failing. 

“You’re the best husband ever, you know that? You’re strong and handsome and you’re incredibly lucky to have me.” Dick curls into Jason. “You should do your husbandly duty tonight.”

“You are way too ... _tispy_ to stay awake for that, my Prince.” Jason sighs, wrapping his arm around Dick. Dick yawns heavily in response, blinking long and slow as if he doesn’t understand Jason’s words.

Dick curls further into Jason, shoving his face onto Jason’s chest and resting his hand on his stomach, absent-mindedly tapping out the beat of Jason’s heart with his fingers until they slow with Dick’s breathing as he slips off to sleep. Jason sighs, feeling more amused than disappointed that Dick couldn’t even stay awake for a kiss, let alone anything more.

***

Working as a guard on the Caravan is a long, boring job. For Jason, it mostly consists of riding his camel, keeping an eye out for bandits appearing over the dunes and trying to keep the sun out of his eyes while he keeps his hand on the pommel of his sword. The dry desert winds blow sand into Jason’s eyes and mouth even when they’re the most gentle of breezes, so he spends what feels like half his time wiping at his eyes and retucking the length of dulband he has wrapped over his nose and mouth under itself. 

It’s a lot of waiting around for something that no one wants to happen, but Jason has a fair amount of practice at staying in position guarding, given that it’s how he started out back with Ra’s and Talia. It hurts to think of them now, the not knowing if they’re dead or alive or what state they could possibly be in if Nyssa has let them live, it weighs on him when he doesn’t manage to distract himself with the daily tasks of life in a Caravan.

They pack up all the tents early in the morning, stacking them up on the camels’ back or in howdah along with the cargo of silk and spices, they head out after a quick breakfast of a dry packed bar of oats and tea for the people and dried peas for the camels. They travel at the walking speed of a man until the sun starts to set, when they unpack the tents and camp for the night. Dick seems to revel in the nomadic lifestyle, the constant packing and unpacking, the long hours spent traversing the desert, Jason would even say he’s enjoying the travelling as he rides on one of the camels with Damian. He certainly loves performing at night, coming back to their tent after rehearsals with a blinding smile and shoulders loose and relaxed despite the fact that they are, technically at least, running for their lives. Jason wishes he could be that relaxed but the constant low grade panic at the thought of losing Damian means he’s always tense now.

Damian’s still quiet; still barely interacting with the people around him. The most worrying thing is how polite he’s being, saying please and thank you when he gets his meals and sticking as close to Jason or Dick or both of them as he can. He even goes to bed with no fuss and sleeps the entire night through without waking. Jason tries not to worry, the boy has lost almost everyone and everything he’s ever known, so he tries to take care of him as best he can, letting him grieve like Jason wishes he could too.

“I’m worried about Damian.” Dick admits one night when they’re sitting on the bed pallet in their tent on his night off from performing. Damian’s asleep on his pallet, clutching his blanket to him almost like a beloved toy, his feet kicked out from the cover. There’s a small frown between his eyebrows, as if he’s concentrating hard on a task.

“I am too. I keep hoping he’ll turn around and snap out an order to me.” Jason says, pouring them both another cup of tea, and taking a sip of his own. “I know you told the Caravan leader we were merchants who escaped Nyssa’s invasion, and Damian ordering me around really doesn’t fit into that, but damn if it wouldn’t make me feel better.”

“I almost miss that. That imperious little attitude.” Dick says, sighing as he sips his tea. “Maybe I should take him with me to the rehearsal tomorrow. Maybe he needs to be around more people.”

“If you can convince him to go, then yes, maybe being fussed over by pretty ladies will perk him up.” Jason gives a wry smile, remembering the look on Damian’s face the last time that Talia’s court ladies had spent time complimenting Damian. He’d been almost impossible for a day or two, letting the praise go to his head and ego in equal measure. 

“We can only hope!” Dick snorts, his grin widening and then dimming. “I’m worried about you too, you know. I can’t remember the last time I saw you truly relaxed. You’re even tense in your sleep.”

“I’m fine.” Jason tries to brush off Dick’s concern, but it’s obvious that Dick doesn’t believe him. “I will be fine. Once we get to Gotham and Damian’s safe. Once you’re safe. I can relax then.” He tries again, injecting more confidence than he really feels into his words. Dick still looks unsure, but doesn’t press it further, so Jason must have been convincing enough.

“Come here.” Dick says, opening his arms and wrapping them around Jason’s shoulders once he moves in closer. “I’m going to remind you that I have excellent luck and I am not at all sun addled, so you’ll have to believe me.” Jason snorts from within the confines of Dick’s arms. “And since you put up a privacy sheet tonight, I think you should do your husbandly duty. Perhaps that’ll relax you.” Jason doesn’t need to look up from resting his head on Dick’s shoulder to know he’s smirking.

“As my Prince commands.” Jason grins, pressing a kiss into Dick’s shoulder and dragging him down onto the bed pallet with enthusiasm. 

***

They’ve been with the Caravan for almost a month now, and because of the slow pace it moves at, they’ve only just crossed the border between two of the neighbouring countries, which incidentally also means that they’ve headed deep enough into the desert that it’s too hot to travel by day and sleep by night. Instead the Caravan now camps by day, resting under canvas shades in the blistering sun and travels in the cold of night. Jason’s mostly adjusted to the new schedule, and Dick is getting there, but strangely enough, Damian’s doing better than either of them expected. While he still mostly rides with Dick, he’s perked up enough that he sometimes shares Jason’s camel with him.

Jason’s pretty sure his camel hates him. It’s the only explanation for why the damn beast constantly bounces him harder than any of the other riders. He’s tried Dick’s suggestion of sugared figs, which it had eaten and then spat at him. He’s tried letting the animal have its head while riding, as it knows the route by heart and needs no input from a novice rider. That hadn’t worked either. Jason’s given up trying to make the camel like him and has instead settled for avoiding getting spat on. The camel, because of course it does, _adores_ Damian. It goes all doe-eyed around him, behaving perfectly and never spitting when it can see him. The feeling is apparently mutual as Damian will always pat him and tell him what a good boy he is. (Jason was told his camel was female, Damian had scoffed when Jason tried to correct him.) 

He’s also renamed the camel Brutus. Jason would roll his eyes at this, but honestly he’s so relieved that Damian’s finally pulling out of the sleepy near silent, _worrying_ , reaction he’d had to losing his home that Jason had simply nodded and agreed to call it whatever Damian wanted. To be honest, Brutus fits the camel much better than Yasmina ever had.

Damian doesn’t spend all his time on Jason’s camel talking. Most of the time he’s content to ride quietly in front of Brutus’ first hump, letting Jason do his job. He had, somewhere, found a book of poetry and managed to keep it with him, so he reads, occasionally reading a poem he finds of particular worth aloud and sometimes reading out a poem he feels deserves to be ripped to shreds, drawing Jason into long discussions over word choices, allegories, metaphors and similes that he thinks should never have been committed to paper or should be sent out to all the schools to be studied due to their exceptional beauty.

“If only I’d had the time to grab my book of Mu‘allaqāt.” Damian sighs, flipping a page idly as Brutus continues to plod through the sand dunes. “I could spend hours reading that.” Jason bites back a smile at Damian’s pout as he leans forward over Brutus’ hump, letting his legs dangle down.

“Yes, the lack of warning before the invasion certainly added insult to injury.” Jason says wryly, turning his gaze away to scan the horizon. This deep into the desert it’s highly unlikely any bandits will attack, but Jason’s learnt his lesson about slipping into false security.

“Nyssa has a lot to answer for.” Damian grumbles into his book, pushing his dulband back further on his head. The little lantern on a pole sways gently with Brutus’ gait. It’s only just enough light to read from, the brightness of the stars and moon more than enough to travel by.

“And she will. I promise you that.” Jason keeps his eyes on the top of a nearby sand dune. “It may take until you’re older, but we will give her the retribution she deserves.”

“That’s not an oath I’ll allow you to break, Todd.” Damian whispers, shoulders loosening as the tension drains out of them. Clearly he’d been waiting for Jason to promise him revenge. “I will avenge Mother and Grandfather.”

“I promise on both my life and wife, I will not break this oath, my Lord.” Jason turns his head and looks down at Damian. He’s got a stubborn, determined look on his face and it’s in no way lessened by the tears in his eyes.

“Thank you, Todd.” Damian says, quiet but proud. Then he smirks and Jason has a sinking feeling. “Now I just have to decide if I tell Grayson you called him your wife...”

“Why you little...” Jason splutters before he regains control of himself. “You know, considering how often he asks me to do my husbandly duty, I doubt he’ll mind.”

“Aaaugh. Must you?” Damian’s face is pulled into a look of disgust and Jason can’t bite back the amusement. “Why must adults talk about that? I don’t get it. And don’t tell me I’ll understand when I’m older. I don’t want to.”

“When you love someone, you want them to be happy. Sometimes that means... _Husbandly duty_.” Jason grins at Damian rolling his eyes like only an eight year old can. 

“In that case, I’m never getting married. You and Grayson can keep the romance in my place.” Damian demands, leaning back to stare at the stars above.

“I’m agreeable to that.” Jason says, trying and failing to imagine Damian grown and married. Too much has changed for them already. Jason would like to keep Damian as he is for as long as possible.

***

A week or two later they reach a Caravanserai at the crossroads between two desert routes. The opportunity for a good bath and a night or two of not travelling sends excitement rippling throughout the entire Caravan. They enter the vast stone walled courtyard through the single door, tying the camels into the empty stalls and unloading the goods into the small roofed chambers that they’ll sleep in. Jason watches as they close the wooden gate behind them, and others run to the water pumps to fill any empty water troughs for the animals. The lead merchant and his family head into the largest chamber at the back of the courtyard, the one with the sign for the baths. Jason however, takes their tent and sleeping pallets off of Dick’s camel and starts laying them out in the small sleeping chamber next to where their camels are hitched.

After a quick meal, it’s their turn in the baths and Jason is thoroughly looking forward to sloughing off all the sand that’s sticking to his body after weeks of travel. After a brisk rinse and rub down with a rag, the three of them are ready to get into the large bath with some of the other men. Jason leans back against the side of the bath, tipping his head back with his eyes closed as he sinks down into water to his chin. It’s the most luxurious feeling Jason’s ever had and he wants to savour it. Dick sits down close to him, pulling Damian in between them, idly splashing at him and chuckling when Damian apparently scowls at his playfulness.

“Aaaah, this is nice.” Dick sighs, happily, shifting enough in the water that Jason can hear it lapping against him.

“The baths at home are better.” Damian says, waving his arms about under the surface of the water. He stretches out his legs and Jason feels the touch of his foot against his calf. It rests there; Damian seems to just want the comfort of touch from someone familiar and not his attention.

“The baths in Gotham are only big enough for one person. I think I like this style of bathing better though.” Dick tells Damian. “In Gotham you get into a tub of heated water, and then have to keep topping the hot water up. You sit there and you clean yourself.”

“That sounds very unhygienic.” Damian says. “You bathe to get clean and we get clean to bathe.”

“I know!” Dick chuckles, sending a gentle wave of water over to Damian and by extension, Jason. “The world is full of people doing the same things differently. I think it makes things fun.”

“I’m not sure fun is the word for it.” Damian leans back, his foot skidding against Jason’s calf again. “I’m not sure I’m going to like Gotham. If you all bathe like, like... heathens. I think I shall instruct you to build us a proper bath, Grayson.”

“Oh you will, will you?” Jason doesn’t have to have his eyes open to know that Dick’s grinning. “In that case, I’ll have to do just that. Do you want mosaics everywhere or is plain tile acceptable?”

“Hmmm. Mosaics. With Mother of Pearl and Gold.” Damian tells Dick, entirely serious. “And proper oils of course. Steam and soft towels. Maybe even musicians.”

“That sounds pretty opulent. How are we going to be paying for all this?” Dick teases, leaning against Damian and slowly pushing him into Jason’s arm. Jason barely keeps back the snort at the thought of money. They’re working at the Caravan for food and their tent. Fancy baths are a distant memory and likely to stay that way.

“Don’t be silly, Grayson. You’re paying for it all. It can be your proper wedding present to Todd.” Damian teases back, and Jason can hear the grin in his voice. “Since you’re always telling him how lucky he is, I think you should prove it!”

“Oh damn. Hoist by my own petard, there.” Dick mutters, and Jason grins. “Alright, since you’re designing it and I’m paying for it, can we call it a joint gift?”

“That’s acceptable.” Damian lifts his hand out of the water and Jason opens his eyes just in time to see them shaking on it.

“Well, as much as I’m looking forward to my fancy new baths, I think I’m done here. I expect the two of you to come up with something spectacular. Don’t disappoint me.” Jason says grinning and stretching out his arms before standing up out of the water to wrap a cloth around his waist. “I’ll see you two back in our chamber.” Jason steps out of the bath and heads off to find his clean set of clothes.

***

After a month of travelling at night, the Caravan has passed through the deepest part of the desert and out the other side. Which means, to Jason’s great relief, they have returned to travelling by day and sleeping at night. If they were being followed from the city, they would have been attacked already. Since they haven’t been, that means if Nyssa’s still coming after them, it’ll be from this side of the desert and up to the safety of Gotham. This weekend is Jason’s last chance to relax before he needs to be on guard again.

After Dick’s performance tonight, a few of his fellow dancers had offered to look after Damian for a few hours to give them some much needed privacy. Jason and Dick are stretched out on their bed pallet, relishing the afterglow. Jason’s resting on his back, arm tucked his head and Dick cuddling up to his left side, his head resting over Jason’s heart in what seems like his favourite position. Jason hasn’t missed how it avoids his right leg, where he usually keeps his knife strapped to his thigh. Not that he’s wearing it right now, but it’s the thought that counts, and it’s one that Jason keeps close to his heart, letting it warm him when the chill of what he’s lost starts to threaten. 

It doesn’t feel like there’s much he can do to make Dick feel good except protecting him, little he can do to leave Dick with happy thoughts of him to focus on during the day when they’re apart. But at least at times like these, when Jason’s trailing his fingertips up and down his spine, he can enjoy Dick’s pleased sighs and gentle kisses to his chest.

“I still can’t feel my toes!” Dick giggles, kicking a little at Jason’s ankle as if doing that will make his toes less numb. 

“We _are_ getting pretty good at that.” Jason hums, dropping a kiss to the crown of Dick’s head and enjoying the tickle of his hair against his chin. 

“I can’t wait to get back to get back to Gotham and you can do your husbandly duty more often.” Dick stretches out, fingertips brushing the side of their pallet before coming back to rest on Jason’s abs. 

“Mm, yes, we need to talk about that. Gotham, I mean, not my husbandly duty.” Jason says, pulling his arm out from under his head to rest his hand over Dick’s. “I guess now’s as good a time as any?”

“Do we have to? Everything’s going to be fine. Can’t we just enjoy ourselves for now?” Dick sighs plaintively, shifting a little to look up at Jason.

“Yes.” Jason says, making Dick pout. It’s a cute look on him, so Jason kisses him on the lips gently for just long enough for Dick’s pout to soften. “I’ve been thinking about it, and the only thing that’ll really keep Damian safe if is you formally adopt him. I know it’s sudden, but I’m sure it’s the best course of action. What do you think?”

“What do I think? Oh my god, Jason, I thought you wanted to talk about something terrible! Don’t scare me like that!” Dick says, thumping on Jason’s chest with his fist in emphasis. “Of course I’ll adopt Damian. I mean, providing he agrees of course. He does technically outrank me, as far as we know.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he’s going to stab me when I suggest it, so... I’m sorry to leave you a widower so young, but you’re rich and pretty, you’ll find him a stepfather in no time.” Jason keeps a straight face throughout that entire sentence and feels proud of himself for managing. Dick on the other hand goes from raised eyebrows to a smirk by the end.

“Excuse you, but I already have a _long line_ of suitors for my hand. I’m exceedingly popular! I’ll have you know that I turned down six different princes and four princesses before we settled on the Al Ghuls.” Dick says, tone mock offended and sniffy. “Count your lucky stars you got me. And since you do, you’re not allowed to die until you’re old and grey and I’ve gone first, understand? That’s an order from your prince, by the way.”

“Oh well, if it’s an order, I have no choice then.” Jason says, rolling his eyes in fond amusement. “As my Prince commands.” 

“You know, I do like how agreeable you are.” Dick grins, leaning up to kiss Jason again. “Makes me feel special.”

“Well, I have been told I’m the best husband ever.” Jason mumbles into Dick’s mouth, making Dick smile widely. Dick drops his head back down, resting back on Jason’s chest and humming happily, whispering the words to a song so quietly that Jason can barely hear him.

“ _Take me, I'm yours, because dreams are made of this. Forever there'll be a heaven in your kiss..._ ”

***

The Caravan is continuing west, but Gotham’s capital city is north so they part ways with the Caravan at the first inn on the road to Bristol. There’s a surprising amount of tears involved, mostly from all the friends Dick’s made and some from the ladies who had taken a shine to Damian. Jason, however, mostly feels uncomfortable leaving the safety of the Caravan and relieved that they’re that much closer to the safety of King Bruce’s protection.

The arid scrubland is replaced with lusher grasses, the palm trees are now interspersed with more deciduous ones, eventually completely giving way to denser woodlands. The roads are lined by the trees, shading the roads from the sun, but also giving bandits and Nyssa’s men cover. Jason is tense and on alert constantly, even in the rooms they hire on the way. Dick’s noticed, but he’s kept his silence so far. Damian’s also kept his silence but has taken to sleeping with one hand wrapped around Jason’s wrist and the other around his own knife. It’s a bittersweet gesture, and Jason appreciates the effort because it allows Jason to relax just enough to rest, although sleep is still a distant hope. 

Dick managed to buy two horses at that first inn, and they’ve been moving at a decent clip for most of the week since they’d left the Caravan. The trees have thinned out from the forest, opening out into farmland with small villages set not that far from the large road. The City of Bristol is barely visible on the horizon, only a glinting of the tallest gleaming spires of the castle at the top of the hill proving that they’re getting closer. Damian had started off the week squirming around in front of Jason on the horse, but as they’ve got closer to their destination, he’s slowly become more and more still, as if mirroring Jason’s tenseness. 

“We should be there in two days.” Dick says, nodding towards the city as they crest a hill and start down the other side.

“Good, because I’m getting sick of inns.” Jason fussing with the reins of his horse as Damian pushes up to stand in front of him, leaning forward to squint into the distance.

“It will be nice to have proper guards around, again.” Damian says, sitting down again and petting the mane of their horse.

“Hey! I’m sitting right behind you, you could at least mutter your complaints under your breath like a polite person.” Jason grumbles loudly. Dick has to fight back a smile at Jason’s tone, but Damian doesn’t bother hiding his snort of amusement.

“As you haven’t bribed me with sweets in several months, and therefore are clearly failing in your duties, Todd, no, no I can’t.” Damian retorts, a tiny smirk gracing his lips as he tilts his head back to stare at Jason.

“Don’t blame me, blame the supply chain. By which I mean Prince Richard over there. He’s the one paying for everything. Please direct all your complaints thattaway, thank you very much.” Jason grins back, geeing the horse to step a little faster, bouncing Damian up and down.

“Oh how dare you! The betrayal, the deceit! I might make you sleep in the stables tonight if you’re not careful.” Dick pretends to be shocked, laying a hand over his heart to complete the image. Damian outright giggles at Dick’s melodramatic pose.

“If Todd sleeps in the stables, will I get sweets?” Damian asks, tilting his head hopefully.

“No, but I’m sure we can get some in Bristol.” Dick directs his horse in closer to Jason’s and reaches out to ruffle Damian’s hair. Damian bears the indignity of this with more grace that Jason’s used to.

“Hmmm. In that case, I insist he stay in the room, as it’s your failing we have no sweets.” Damian nods seriously and Dick has to fight back another smile. This time it’s Jason who doesn’t bother to hide his snort of amusement.

“You realise that I can’t do my husbandly duty from the stables, right, my Prince?” Jason adds. The surprised look on Dick’s face is one that Jason will treasure for years to come, eyes wide with those thick lashes fanning against his eyebrows and mouth hanging open showing off how soft and kissable his lips are.

“I... That... Oh _fine_ , you can stay. But no more blaming me for the supplies. That’s an order.” Dick says, emphasising his words by jabbing his finger at Jason, grin ruining the stern look on his face.

“As my Prince commands. Oh and by the way, Damian, you have to remember that he’s not sun-addled, he was born like this.” Jason bows a little in the saddle, looming over Damian and pushing him forward, not even bothering to hide his grin.


End file.
